


Breach

by jakia



Category: Glee
Genre: Depression, Infidelity, M/M, Miscarriage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-17 13:55:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/868306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jakia/pseuds/jakia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, things must break before they can mend.  Klaine, angst.  Part one of three. TW: depression, infidelity, side effects of antidepressants, miscarriage</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breach

**Author's Note:**

> NOT A HAPPY STORY but I do promise a happy ending, eventually.
> 
> Based on real events.
> 
> There will be two additional chapters because rainbowrites is a horrible influence, one from Blaine point of view, and one from (spoiler)
> 
> If you didn't read the trigger warnings, go back and do that now. There will be a reading comprehension test and the end of the story (just kidding but no seriously).
> 
> A great many thank yous to the-multicorn, rainbowrites, and chiasmuslovesme for beta-ing for me! Without you lovely ladies assisting me this fic would not be 
> 
> I promise I will write happier things next time?

 

Blaine isn't doing anything.

 

He does that a lot, now.  He didn't before—the Blaine Kurt married _always_ had something to do, was always bouncing around, chasing one idea after another. 

 

But this Blaine—well, he does a lot of staring at walls, lying in space alone with his thoughts. 

 

Carefully, Kurt sneaks behind him and wraps his hands around Blaine's eyes.  “Guess who?”

 

He feels Blaine's lip turn up in a small smile.  “ _Kurt._ ”

 

“What are you doing?” Kurt asks, even though he knows the answer—he's been watching him from the doorway for the past ten minutes.

 

Blaine sighs as Kurt drops his hands.  “Nothing, I guess.  Just...thinking.”

 

“Well, that's dumb.  Come on, I'm horny, let's have sex.” Kurt kisses his husband's cheek, pulling at his arms and trying to tug him off of the couch.  Blaine doesn't budge, though, not really.

 

He pulls his hands out of Kurt's.  “Not tonight, Kurt.  I'm tired.”

 

 _Then when?_ Kurt wants to ask, but doesn't, biting his bottom lip softly.  He wants to bring up the fact that they haven't had sex in two weeks, even though Kurt has tried, several times—Blaine's just never “in the mood”.  In all honesty, he thinks they had more sex when they were broken up his first year in New York than they do now.

 

“Blaine Anderson-Hummel, get to the bedroom, _now_ , or I'm going to have to tie you to the bed and spank you.”

 

It's not the first time they've done that, and it’s usually one of Blaine's favorites, but today all he gets is a small smile, but no—no movement towards the bedroom, no “Yes sir!”

 

He is _so_ frustrated, and horny.

 

He picks his husband up playfully and carries him fireman style towards the bedroom, ignoring Blaine's squawks of protest and sudden laughter as Kurt _thwaps_ him on the bed.

 

It's such a _welcome_ sound, so rare these days; Kurt finds himself tickling Blaine gently, doing anything he can to keep the sound of laughter going.  He kisses down his husband's neck, letting his hands trickle up Blaine's shirt.

 

“Kurt,” Blaine laughs, pushing at him playfully.  “Stop.”

 

Kurt ignores him, because—because it’s so nice to be touching him again, and to hear him laugh again, and surely this must be feeling good to him, too, right? And--

 

“ _Kurt_ ,” Blaine says again, harsher this time.  “Red.”

 

Their safeword.

 

Kurt immediately removes his hands.  “I'm sorry,” he says quietly, rolling off of Blaine so that they lie side-by-side.  “I—I'm sorry.”

 

Blaine looks away.  “I told you _no_ , Kurt.  I'm just—not today.”

 

“You said that last night, too.” Kurt bites his lip.  “And the night before that.  And last week.”

 

Blaine tucks his head into his pillow, like he looks ashamed of himself.  “I'm sorry.”

 

“Don't be.  I just—I _miss_ you, honey.” Kurt whines softly, caressing his husband's cheek.  “This is going on week three, you know?”

 

Blaine nuzzles his hand softly.  “I know.  I know, and I miss you, too, I just--” he sighs softly, curling up into a fetal position.  “I think it's the antidepressants?  They—they said---I think it’s a side effect.”  He opens his eyes suddenly, and leans closer to Kurt.  “I could stop taking them?  That might help.”

 

“ _No._ ” Kurt tells him immediately.  He remembers what Blaine was like before the medication.  He doesn't want to go there again.  “No, don't do that.  Your mental health is more important than my sex drive, Blaine, I promise.”

 

“I love you,” He chokes, wrapping his arms around Kurt's waist and pulling him closer, resting his head against Kurt's chest.  Kurt wraps his arms around him and holds him close, kissing his forehead, and tries not to think about how much he _wants_ him.

 

* * *

 

 

It would be easier, Kurt thinks to himself in the shower, if Blaine were gone somewhere.  If Blaine were out of town, maybe visiting Ohio, then Kurt could masturbate and be done.  He'd still miss him, of course, and he'd still prefer having sex with him, but it would be different.  There wouldn't be another option.

 

Instead, Kurt masturbates in the shower, and thinks about his husband in the next room who doesn't want Kurt to touch him.

 

* * *

 

 

“Are you sure you don't want to come?” It's another week later, and Kurt is getting ready to go out.  He has a work event to go through—not quite the New York Ballet, but something equally fancy and important. 

 

It's something the Blaine he married would have jumped through hoops to attend.

 

“No thank you.” Blaine says softly from his place on the couch, lightly paging through a magazine.  “You have fun though.”

 

Kurt bites his lip and tries not to scream.  _He's trying_ , he thinks, and goes back to adjusting his tie.

 

“What time will you be back?”

 

“Oh, eight or nine-ish, I think,” Kurt tells him, and then thinks that perhaps a different tie would be better.  Something brighter.  Something happier.  “You don't have to wait up for me, though, if it's later.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Do you want me to bring home food? I'm sure there will be leftovers—probably some fancy desserts.  I could get you some cheesecake.”

 

“I'm okay.” Blaine says gently.

 

“Okay then.” Kurt finishes dressing, and kisses his husband goodbye.  “I love you.”

 

 “I love you, too!”

 

He makes it to the backseat of the taxi before he bursts into tears.

 

* * *

 

 

“You look like you've been crying,” Isabelle whispers sweetly in his ear as she hugs him hello.  “Are you okay?”

 

“I miss my husband,” he confesses, because Isabelle already knows everything, and then excuses himself to the restroom to fix his face.

 

* * *

 

 

-

 

There is a boy.

 

He is _maybe_ eighteen years old, with slicked back jet black hair and a charming smile, and he reminds Kurt so much of a young Blaine Anderson that it makes his heart hurt just looking at him.

 

“You've been staring at me all night,” the boy, whose name tag reads _Joshua W._ , tells him flirtatiously. “Are you interested?”

 

 _Only in who you look like._   “I'm old enough to be your father.” Because at thirty-two, he feels it, every day.

 

The boy rolls his eyes.  “I'm nineteen.  And that doesn't bother me at all.”

 

He looks _so_ much like Blaine--

 

“Come on.  Are you in or not?”

 

He follows him.

 

* * *

 

 

-

 

He gets home after midnight and feels sick to his stomach, like he's never going to be clean again and, oh _God_ , how is he ever going to look at Blaine ever again?

 

To make matters worse, when he finally opens the door to their apartment he finds Blaine asleep in the recliner, waiting for him.

 

He shakes Blaine gently, ignoring the tears that are running down his face.  “You're going to hurt your back.” He tells Blaine quietly, and hopes in the darkness Blaine can't see him crying.

 

Blaine starts awake, and then blearily looks at the clock on the microwave.  “You said you were going to be home at _nine._ ”

 

“I know.  I'm sorry.”

 

“Where were you?” he asks, concern lacing his voice as he stumbles out of the chair to try and find the lamp to turn on.  “Kurt are you—are you _crying?_   What's wrong?”

 

He hates himself, especially as Blaine walks over and hugs him tightly, wiping at his eyes.  “Kurt--”

 

“There was a boy,” he confesses, snot dripping down his nose.  “There was a boy, and he was nineteen and he looked so much like you and--”

 

Blaine lets go of him like he's been burnt.

 

“ _Kurt--_ ”

 

“I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry, Blaine, and I--”

 

Blaine is crying now, and he turns and goes into their bedroom, and _slams_ the door shut behind him.

 

Kurt cries himself to sleep on the couch, and misses him even more.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, Blaine wakes him up.

 

“Did you have sex with him?” is the first thing he asks, and Kurt—through bleary eyes—can tell Blaine hasn’t slept at all.

 

“No,” Kurt admits.  “But I wanted to.”

 

Blaine sucks in his breath, and he—he pulls the recliner closer to the couch before he sits down, so they have to look one another in the eye as he talks.  “I am so _mad_ at you right now.” Blaine admits, wiping his eyes.  “I know why you did it, and I know that it doesn't mean anything, but it still _hurts._ ”

 

Kurt reaches out for Blaine's hand, and squeezes it gently.  The fact that Blaine doesn't immediately pull away is a good sign.  “It won't ever happen again.” He promises, and means it.  He won't ever look at another boy for as long as he lives, if it means Blaine will forgive him.

 

“I know,” Blaine cries, scooting closer to him.  “And I know this is my fault, because things have been so hard lately, and I'm trying to get better but its just not happening fast enough and --”

 

“It's _not_ your fault,” Kurt leans forward and kisses his forehead.  “This isn't your fault, it's mine, I was—weak and I'm so, so sorry, Blaine, I—”

 

Blaine throws himself in his arms clumsily, but Kurt holds onto him like his life depends on it, like he's drowning and Blaine is the only thing keeping him afloat. 

 

* * *

 

 

They spend hours like that, just holding one another and crying, but they can't stay that way forever.  They order Chinese food and they move themselves to the kitchen, and they talk and talk and talk to one another, for what feels like the first time in months.

 

“I wish we'd never tried to have a baby,” Kurt confesses, holding Blaine's hand across their kitchen table.  It's the first time he's ever said these words out loud, even though the incident was over six months ago.  “I feel like—like when Rachel miscarried, that's when everything started to go wrong with us.”

 

Blaine shakes his head.  “It was before that.  At least, I think I was depressed before then, but that—that didn't help matters, no.”

 

He reaches over and places his other hand on top of the one holding Blaine's.  “I miss you.  And I love you, so, so very much.”

 

“I love you, too.” He runs his thumb along the top of Kurt's hand, pausing over his wedding ring..  “I want—I want this to work between us, Kurt.  I want it so much.”

 

“I think, when two people want something to work as much as you and I do, it usually does.” He leans forward and kisses him slowly.  He feels Blaine smile against him as they kiss, and it makes him feel like, for the first time in months, everything is going to be okay.

 

“Come take a shower with me?” Blaine asks as he pulls away from the kiss; Kurt blinks at him slowly.

 

“You don't have t--”

 

“I know I don't.  I _want_ to.” Blaine tells him, kissing him again.  “I've missed you too, you know?”

 

In the bathroom, they strip one another down, never quite losing contact with one another.  They're naked for the first time in a month, and Kurt cannot help but stare.  When did Blaine get so thin--?

 

Blaine turns the water on and waits for it to warm up before stepping inside, and pulls Kurt in with him.  Their shower is small—their entire _apartment_ is small—but right now that's a good thing.  It keeps them close, forces them to stay touching the entire time.

 

He washes Blaine's hair first, and then turns around around and lets Blaine wash his.  Blaine kisses the back of his neck as he does, and it feels so nice, to be touched again by the man he loves.

 

He trails his fingers down the length of Blaine's body.  “Can I--?”

 

Blaine shivers, then nods, and Kurt kneels.

 

It takes longer than it used to for him to get completely hard, especially since they're naked and wet in the shower together, but in some ways that's nice.  It means he gets to enjoy him longer, gets to savor the taste and feel of Blaine in his mouth in a way he hasn't gotten to in a month's time.

 

When Blaine comes, it's with a quiet gasp that feels almost like a whimper.

 

They take turns drying each other off, wrapping one another in fuzzy towels they got as a wedding present years ago.  They don't bother getting dressed, and they hold hands as they walk out of the bathroom into their bed.

 

They are lying together when Blaine slides his hand down Kurt's waist.

 

“You don't have to,” Kurt tells him, even though he—he _wants_. 

 

“I want to.” Blaine tells him, and then wraps his hand around him.

 

It doesn't take long—it's been too long, and he's been too strung up for too long to last, but its nice, and he would not trade the feeling of Blaine's hand for anything else in the world—even a blowjob from a nineteen year old.

 

They lie together, sated and still in love, and await the rest of the world.

 

* * *

 

 

END


End file.
